


Sunday Candy

by megamazing



Category: Iron Man (Comic), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Avengers Movie Night, Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Pre-Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Tony Stark is a Good Mentor, i'm shocked too, obligatory crack-trope of jealousy, real honest-to-god talking happens, that's not a sex thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 00:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12759027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megamazing/pseuds/megamazing
Summary: Steve snaps on a Sunday.





	Sunday Candy

**Author's Note:**

> What canon does this story live in? Don’t worry about it.

Steve snaps on a Sunday. It isn’t a gentle thing, nor a quick one. Unfortunately, Steve’s nowhere near lucky enough for that.

When he snaps, it’s not even in the privacy of his own rooms, where he can have JARVIS delete the evidence without another soul ever catching wind of the disaster that is Steve when he loses it. “It” of course being his grip on reality as a whole, because Steve is nothing if not thorough, according to Sam. No, when the dam holding back Steve’s sanity throws in the towel, it does so during Team Movie Night: the previously-mandatory team bonding session that Coulson and Fury had forced them all into years ago, and was now such a staple of life as an Avenger that none of them would dream of missing it, much less want to wreck it for everyone.

But wreck it Steve does.

Spectacularly.

It’s that thoroughness thing that Sam’s always mentioning, Steve knows it.

Adding to the mass of guilt and shame building higher and higher in his system, is the fact that it was the first Team Movie Night that Coulson had attended since everyone realized Phil liked Clint back.

Which was huge and exciting for the whole team, because it meant that Clint might realize it too, and they were all far too enmeshed in each other’s lives to _not_ live vicariously through the Saga of Clint and Phil (as Natasha had dubbed it).

But then Tony walked in with in a woman named Mary Jane Watson. That’s where Steve thinks things took a turn for the…regrettable.

\----

They were gathered in the massive living room outside the kitchen and dining area: Jessica and Luke took over the love seat, but everyone knew they’d be huddled together the minute the lights went out and attention was directed elsewhere; Bruce was at one end of the large sectional and Coulson had the other, with Clint sprawled out on the floor nearby; Natasha sat on the other side of Phil, feigning disinterest in Jess’s new baby story (he knew for a fact she loved those stories). It was the first time in a long time that Steve had seen Jess without any hint of baby spit-up or powder on her clothes, and not a hint of what Phil called the “new baby smell”.

Luke chimed in every so often with a comment about baby Dani, and Steve could hear Jessica’s smile in the way she groaned and added on _her_ version of what happened to every story he told.

Steve and Sam were still rushing to get all the food out before the movie started – Avengers could _eat_ – and yet Steve hadn’t felt this relaxed in weeks. The only people missing from their ever-expanding family roster were Tony, Thor, Peter, Jan, and Carol. Peter had called earlier to announce he couldn’t make it, Jan was dealing with a Hank-and-His-Science issue that no one was going to touch with a ten-foot pole, Carol was somewhere in space, Thor was off wooing Jane in a trip across the World Tree (Steve did his best to not think too hard about the logistics of that one), and Tony was just…late.

It wasn’t all that normal for Tony to be late to these things, since he liked to stake his claim on his spot on the couch, and mock Steve relentlessly for playing mother hen and making sure everyone was fed. Which Steve _wasn’t_ doing, he was just being a good leader and making sure his team was taken care of, was that so bad? But Tony wasn’t around to have that familiar not-an-argument this time.

“He’ll be here eventually, quit your pouting,” Sam said, pouring bags of popcorn into massive, metal bowls. “He’s never missed one of these before, and I know you already checked with JARVIS to make sure he wasn’t in the middle of a project.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t pouting. And you don’t know I did that.”

Sam flashed him a shit-eating grin. “I didn’t, but I do now.” Steve chucked the dish towel at him and Sam ducked just in time, laughing. “Come on, this is a fun night! No babies, no impending doom and gloom – we _got_ this! Let us have this one, Steve, please,” Sam begged, pressing his hands together in prayer with his best impression of Clint’s puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, shut up. Of course I know he’s coming. He would have called ahead if there was a problem.” Unless JARVIS had lied, and Tony _was_ right in the middle of an engineering jag. In that case Steve would have to go down and drag Tony bodily out of his lab to get his attention…

He could have sworn he heard Sam mumble something like “ _codependency_ ”, but when Steve shot him a look, Sam merely held up his hands in surrender.

“All I’m saying is we got, like, 60% of the gang present and accounted for. That’s more than we’ve had in one place in over a month! Let’s just chill, yeah?”

“Since I’m the only one here whose ever been frozen in a block of ice for seventy years, I’m the reigning authority on chill,” Steve deadpanned.

“Aw, man, Tony canceled!” Clint called out as they walked into back the room, balancing the food.

“What? When?” Steve’s shoulders sank, and Jess just snatched the bowl before it could tumble out of his hands. Not that it _would_ – super-soldier reflexes, after all.

Clint immediately broke into laughter and Natasha tossed her boot dead-center of his back, sending him into a coughing fit.

“I really wish I didn’t know you people,” Jessica said flatly.

“Well you won’t get a better introduction to our band of lunatics than that,” came Tony’s voice from the elevators.

Steve knew he was smiling too much for only hearing the sound of his voice, but Tony was back, so he let himself happily ignore the simultaneous eyerolls he got from Sam and Nat.

“We’re just getting started in here, Tony,” Steve called out. “Why don’t you…” Steve trailed off as Tony strode into the room. Not for the usual reasons Steve lost his train of thought around Tony, which wasn’t _that_ often, but because Tony walked in with his arm around a tall redheaded woman with vibrant green eyes and a shining smile.

“Hello,” she said, not sounding phased by the sight in front of her in the slightest.

“Avengers! This is Mary Jane Watson, my new PA and all-around wonder. Mary Jane, these are the Avengers. Mostly – the scowling leather jacket doesn’t like to be included as an official member,” Tony amended. “Everything you heard about the rest of them is probably true.”

The room went silent for all of a minute. “Watson? Like in Sherlock Holmes? _Nice_ ,” Clint said through a mouthful of popcorn.

Phil stood and held out a hand toward her without missing a beat. “We just marathoned the BBC series, and now he’s got an obsession. My name is Phil Coulson, pleasure to meet you,” he greeted smoothly.

Mary Jane Watson’s laugh was a little like bells. Horrible. _Lovely_ , of course – it was an undeniably infectious sound – but when paired with the happy, grateful smile on Tony’s face as he looked at her, her laugh might as well have been nails on a chalkboard. Steve tried not to make the teeth grinding going on behind his smile too obvious.

“I’ll take an Arthur Conan Doyle reference over the dozen Watson and Crick ones I got walking through R&D this afternoon,” she said slyly, earning a fist bump from Clint and a knowing smirk from Bruce.

“Don’t flatter him, he’s harder to get rid of than flees,” Tony snarked. Clint just stuck out his tongue. “And you can call his better half, Agent. Everyone does.”

“No one but Tony calls Phil that,” Bruce corrected gently. He smiled welcomingly at Mary Jane and nodded to her. “You probably already know who we are, if you’re working for him, but I’m Bruce. You’re very welcome to join us.”

_You’re really not,_ Steve thought uncharitably, but shook it off and stood up to greet her like the good guy he was supposed to be, plastered smile and all. “Bruce is right, it’s nice to meet more of Tony’s employees.”

There was a full beat of uncomfortable silence before Natasha laid a firm hand on Steve’s elbow, and he remembered to let go of Mary Jane’s hand. Natasha squeezed him again purposefully as she flashed a reassuring smile at Mary Jane. “Help yourself to anything you want, if Tony hasn’t said that already. The Good Captain and I are going to run back to grab more drinks, any preferences?”

“Oh, hot tea, if you have it. Any kind, really,” she said easily, not missing a beat. Again. It wasn’t until Steve felt the disappointment hit that he realized he’d been waiting for her to falter under Nat’s stare.

Bruce visibly perked up, and immediately started asking her things about tea. Steve wasn’t sure about the specifics, he was too focused on the way Tony was glued to her hip, and on Tony’s hand lightly resting on her back again as they maneuvered around the coffee table and over Clint’s legs to get to the couch.

“I’ll help, too,” Sam announced, a little too excited to be inconspicuous as he jumped up and patted Mary Jane’s shoulder welcomingly before darting toward Nat and Steve.

Nat tugged at Steve’s elbow sharply one more time, and then he turned on his heel and was out of the room before she could so much as take a step.  

Drinks. Right. He could do drinks. He took slow, measured breaths, forcing the noise in his head down, and made it all the way to the dishwasher to get clean glasses before he was ambushed. He knew it was coming, and yet it still managed to piss him off when Natasha cleared her throat.

“ _What_?” Steve said, the word coming out harsher than he meant.

Sam whistled. “Woah.”

“Woah is one word for it,” Natasha agreed, sarcasm heavy in her voice. “Care to explain what just happened in there, Steve?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell that to our newly crushed dishwasher,” Sam mumbled. Steve frowned, and looked down at his hands. Cursing, he let go of the mangled handle and took a step back, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Go ahead and claim there’s nothing wrong, I can wait,” Nat said dryly, folding her arms across her chest. “Or we can talk about the way you stared down that girl like she was a child murderer getting out on a plea bargain.” They had all been watching too much Law and Order.

“I didn’t do that,” Steve argued.

“It was visibly aggressive,” Sam countered lightly.

“I think we bypassed aggressive after you gave her a smile that blatantly said you’d be happy to shove her out of a window, and followed that up with a power-play of an introduction.”

Steve rolled his eyes and set to getting out the glasses and the mug for Mary Jane’s _tea._ They might have his best interest at heart, but clearly, they were getting carried away. Overreaction, maybe, but aggressive?

When handle of the mug broke off as he set it on the counter, Steve could only sigh. Okay. Maybe his friends had a point. There was something.

“It’s just that we don’t bring other people to these things,” he told them. “It’s like you said, Sam – we’ve been needing a nice, calm movie night for a while now, especially after the hell of the last two weeks, and having to postpone over and over again.”

Sam shook his head back and forth quickly. “Oh hell no, don’t play all that male posturing off on something _I_ said.”

“Personally, I agree with you, Steve,” Natasha said, ignoring Sam’s comment entirely, “but I’m not seeing what Ms. Watson did to warrant your hostility. This was clearly Tony’s doing, not that poor woman’s.” Sam’s eyes went wide, and he made an aborted shaking motion of his head at Nat. She narrowed her eyes at him before turning back to Steve. “I’m serious. You need to check yourself.”

In hindsight, Steve should have listened to Natasha and left it at that.

He didn’t.

It had been thirty minutes of sitting alone on a single armchair (Mary Jane had taken his spot next to Tony), and watching Tony throw his arms back across the couch, one behind Mary jane and the other behind Natasha. The latter make it a point to get Tony’s attention with a quick poke any time he got a little too cozied up to Mary Jane, and Steve was sane enough to love her for that, even if all he wanted to do was take back his spot.

But it was fine. It was Team Movie Night: he would get on board with this new game plan if it killed him

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst of it.

It wasn’t even so bad that Mary Jane looked completely at ease between Tony and Bruce, her feet tucked up under her, her elbow pressing against Tony’s side. When Tony wanted to, he made everyone feel comfortable, so it shouldn’t have been a big deal. And she had seemed completely unfazed by Bruce earlier, so it really wasn’t surprising that Bruce was happy to talk with her. He couldn’t even be annoyed by that in good conscience, because it _was_ good to see Bruce taking so quickly to new people again.

Aside from all that, literally no other person in the room seemed to have any problem at all with Mary Jane joining them, and everyone seemed to be enjoying the movie for once, so Steve had no reason, nor even the slightest justification, for the agitated itch under his skin and the bizarre feeling that something was wrong.

It made him feel like asshole. He _knew_ he was being an asshole. So, he shut his mouth and forced his eyes to watch the movie that he couldn’t remember the name of, much less tell you what was happening on screen at any point in time. There was a man and a woman and…nope, that was all he had.

No, the worst part was that Steve knew Tony. Steve knew Tony better than he thought he could ever know a person after Bucky died. He’d been told that those kinds of friendships were once in a life time, and yet he knew Tony better than he knew himself most days – certainly better than he knew himself in that moment.

The worst was that Steve knew the difference between Tony when he was pretending to be at ease, and Tony when he was genuinely relaxed. Steve knew how to tell apart the minute differences in the set of his shoulders, or the position of his hands. He knew to look for the way Tony’s eyes would scan a room like he was waiting for something to happen, for someone to say something – always waiting for an attack to come from any direction. He knew when Tony was spewing bullshit simply because he was expected to spew bullshit, and when it was his natural stream of consciousness.

So Steve knew, whether he wanted to or not, that this was the _real_ Tony, not a performance piece put on for her benefit.

Here was a woman who none of them had ever met, and yet Tony looked to be completely in his element with her.

Tony had a thing about people touching him when he wasn’t the one to initiate the contact, and yet Steve had seen Mary Jane bump him accidentally and make completely casual contact the likes of which, had it been done by Luke, either of the Jess’s, or even Phil, and Tony would have been out of that couch faster than Pietro Maximoff.

Tony trusted her. That was the only realistic conclusion Steve could come up with, and he’d run through a dozen different possibilities.

For some reason, that made Steve want to punch his way through a few more sandbags in the gym.

Why hadn’t Tony told him? They told each other everything, like when Steve had tried again for that relationship with Sharon, and it had gone up in smoke within weeks, like it always did. Tony had been there for him. And he’d been there for Tony when Pepper left. _That_ had been a long process, but still Tony had let him in, had let him be there when he could.

Steve couldn’t help but notice Mary Jane had similar hair, even if it was a bit darker a red than Pepper’s. And Tony had called her his new personal assistant…but when had he hired her? Steve didn’t know, and that made him rethink every interaction the two of them had, looking for where he might have said something that would make Tony think he didn’t want to know that sort of thing.

Because Steve _did_ want to know that sort of thing, he wanted to know all the things if they meant something to Tony, even if he couldn’t quite follow or didn’t really understand, like when Tony got going on a science spiel. Steve loved to listen to Tony talk about his passions, to watch his face light up, to watch Tony’s genius work its way to a solution.

He wanted to be the one Tony slung his arm around during the movie. The one he made snarky comments to about the dubious or downright ridiculous science involved, and sometimes the logistics of being the face and heir to a multi-billion-dollar company, and how the movies almost never got any of it right.

And then he’d see Mary Jane giggle at one of those comments and Tony would smile his pleased, self-satisfied smile and Steve would do his best to not break the bowl between his hands. Or stop himself from forcefully situating himself in the middle, because that wasn’t really his place, but who did this woman think she was? Coming here and taking Tony and clueing Steve in on the fact there was a whole other portion of Tony’s life Steve hadn’t even known existed? A portion where he met Mary Jane and grew to trust her, forming inside jokes and camaraderie, and he hadn’t felt like telling Steve about any of it.

Which was fine.

It wasn’t Steve’s place to question it, he knew that. If Steve felt one way and Tony didn’t feel that same way, if he told Tony everything and Tony didn’t respond in kind, then that was okay. It had to be. It was what it was.

Steve’s phone buzzed halfway through the movie. He knew not because he’d been paying any decent attention to the film, but because the passing of time felt painfully slow. Sitting across from Tony and Mary Jane, feeling a world away, it was like he could feel every second go by, and Tony still hadn’t looked at him once.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket, shaking him out of his internal pity party.

**Clint: did that bowl insult your mother?**

Steve frowned and looked over at Clint with his eyebrows pinched. Clint was using one of Coulson’s feet to prop up his arm so that it could pillow his head. He looked pointedly at Steve’s hands, where – oh. Where Steve had once again dented the metal into distorted clumps. 

Steve sighed as quietly as possible. He needed to get a grip – no pun intended. He also knew better than to assume Clint was the only one who’d noticed, or that the fact the rest of the team had their eyes glued to the screen meant none of them were paying attention to him, now.

He shot back a quick: **It was all I could do to defend her honor.** And hoped Clint would take that as genuine humor, and not the cop-out that it so was.

**Clint: completely understandable. need backup?**

He knew what Clint was asking, and he appreciated it, but he shook his head and shot Clint a grin he hoped would look reassuring.

That should have been his second clue to bow out gracefully, to let Clint execute whatever plan he had to get Steve out of there, and then go to sleep early. Unfortunately, Steve hadn’t taken it.  

The third sign was there and gone so fast that not even Steve could really blame himself for missing it, but having blown past the first two obvious ones already, in the end, it didn’t really matter.

It came as a look from Tony – go figure.

As soon as the movie ended, chatter filled the room, but Steve hadn’t quite gotten a hold of that grip he’d told himself he’d get by the end of the second act. He was still homed in on Tony and Mary Jane, so he heard her say, loud and clear: “So, what do you think, Mr. Stark?” She made the words ‘Mr. Stark’ sound like another inside joke with the amount of familiarity and teasing laced into her tone. “Where does she rate on the laundry list of models you’ve dated?”

“ _Dated_ is a very strong word, Ms. Watson,” Tony said with a sly grin.

“Models are very strong women, so I’m told.”

Tony laughed his loud, genuine laugh. “Let me brag about you – just one tiny comment to set Barton off? You’ll love the fallout, trust me. This place gets better than May’s soaps if you hit the right buttons.”

Mary Jane looked curious, and Steve had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going.

“Barton,” Tony called his attention. Clint perked his head up over the coffee table. “Show off your super-spy skills: where did MJ work before I poached her?”

Clint narrowed his eyes, studying her exaggeratedly.

“Are we making a game of it?” Jess asked. “My guess is waitress. Tony meets a lot of waitresses.”

‘ _MJ’_ shook her head. “Did a bit of that in high school, but not as an adult.”

“Bar work?” Luke asked, appraising. Jessica elbowed him hard in the side and he coughed. “I only meant bar _tending_ or maybe running a bar, sweet lord, woman.”

MJ just laughed. “Closer.”

“Night club?” Clint tried. “Luke’s right, you have that managerial confidence going on, especially with the way you handle Tony. Bet you could give Pepper a run for her money. Maybe even Steve.”

“Steve does not _manage_ me, Legolas. We co-parent you rotten children like the solid team leaders we are.”

Steve grinned, just a little.

Clint scoffed. “If anything, Phil is Steve’s co-parent.”

Phil shook his head once. “No, I am not. Leave me out of this. Very, very far out of this.”

“But Phil, you wear it so well,” Clint cajoled, waggling his eyebrows.

“What was that Tony told you about this being like a soap opera?” Bruce said wryly to MJ.

“Wait, stop. You’re all dead wrong!” Tony interrupted.

“Well, not really,” MJ said placatingly. “I _did_ run a few nightclubs before my last one got blown up.”

“Supervillain?” Jessica guessed.

“Supervillain.”

It probably said something about their line of work that not one person in the room seemed surprised by that.

“Yeah, yeah. But before that...” Tony urged, grinning wide.

MJ relented. “Yes, I did a little modeling here and there, and then there was the soap opera gig I had for a while after that.”

“ _Little_ ,” Tony scoffed. “MJ was a bonafide starlet. Still is, but she’s got a brilliant mind for business that I plan to take full advantage of in the immediate future.” Tony’s voice was teasingly low and sultry enough to make all four women in the room roll their eyes, and suddenly Steve felt his heart trying to escape out from his throat. When he tried to shove it back down, he was left with a simmering anger that made his skin feel too hot, too tight.

Clint’s mouth fell open. “I’d google you, but then Phil would get mad about using company tech for non-company activities.”

Jess, Jessica, and Luke all snorted at once. “Yeah,” Jess said, “because _that’s_ the reason Phil would get annoyed about you looking up MJ’s modeling career. I bet the photos are stunning, though,” she told MJ. “You’ll have to run for cover as soon as Jan gets back.”

“Jan?” MJ asked, looking around the room as if she’d missed someone.

“Janet Van Dyne. You might know her better as the Wasp. She couldn’t make it tonight but she’ll be all over you, trust me. She has a knack for fashion, and if she gets even a _hint_ that you’ll let her dress you, you’ll never have a moment of peace again in your life.”

“And if you plan on sticking with Tony for a while, you’ll be seeing her often. Better to let her down hard and fast,” Luke advised. “She’s determined.” He mock-shuttered and Jessica smirked, patting his cheek with equally mocking sympathy.

Tony grinned wider. “Oh, she plans to stick around, alright. As long as you don’t mind me answering for you like a jackass from time to time,” he amended, tilting his head and fluttering his eyelashes at her.

Mary Jane winked, like she knew exactly how to play Tony’s game, and it rankled every one of Steve’s instincts. It wasn’t until later on that he realized he had been waiting for her to say the wrong thing with Tony, and for Tony to put back up the walls that were so clearly _not there_.

“I’ve been primed on all your jackass behaviors from multiple sources,” Mary Jane was saying, “so as long as you don’t mind me making decisions to further your company’s success as well as your personal well-being, since you’re clearly incapable of remembering basic human necessities like eating and sleeping…”

“I’ll be fighting you every step of the way,” Tony assured her.

“And I look forward to winning those fights. Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, you’re too cute, the both of you, it’s making me sick,” Jess teased, smiling good naturedly at MJ. Steve more than agreed, but he wasn’t feeling quite so charitable about it.

And then came the look from Tony, there and gone – the last warning sign that things were going to go south. “Steve, you all right there, buddy?” Tony asked, raising a brow. “You’ve been creepily quiet tonight.”

It might have been okay, Steve thinks, looking back on that night, if he hadn’t seen Mary Jane put her hand on Tony’s forearm. Like an unspoken warning, like she was trying to sooth the situation before it started. Whatever the intent had been, the result was the same.

That was that. The red he’d been seeing and the wave of frustration he’d been fighting came rushing back to the surface with a vengeance, and all of a sudden Steve was standing.

“No. Not really. I’m headed up to bed.”

Tony whistled, mockingly. “Skipping out on clean-up duty? How rebellious of you, Captain.”

“Why not?” Steve’s jaw ticked. “You have more than enough hands here to cover my slack. Won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Oh sure,” Mary Jane said quickly, voice suspiciously bright, like she’d known the dig was directed toward her and had decided to breeze past it. “Let me help out, I did show up unannounced and everything.”

“That’s crazy, you’re Tony’s PA, not ours. Don’t worry about it, Cap’s just having a personal moment,” Clint said dismissively from the floor.

“I don’t need you to speak for me, Clint,” Steve snapped. “Of course, you don’t need to clean up after us, Ms. Watson, that’s ridiculous.”

“I can think of one that’s ridiculous right now, and it sure isn’t MJ,” Tony deadpanned, looking at Steve with a suspicious edge to his glare.

“Then I hope you’re referring to yourself,” Steve said flatly, fists balled up tight at his sides.

“Well…” Jess drawled. “How about we all chill out, and by _we,_ I mean _Steve_.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Jess?” Steve snapped. “I’m going to bed. There’s no need to turn this into a drama.”

“Hey, don’t talk to her that way,” Clint warned, hopping up to his feet and crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s your deal, man?”

“Clint,” Steve heard Phil mutter.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Please.”

“Yeah and what’s that supposed to mean, huh?” Clint challenged, stalking forward. “You got your big boy panties in a twist and so now you’re taking it out on the rest of us? Solid show of leadership, _Cap._ ”

“Stand down, Clint,” Steve said, his tone a hair’s breadth away from an order. “Or you can try saying that again and we’ll see what happens.”

Clint whistled, and he had the audacity to crack his knuckles. “Big talk for a—”

“Are you two seriously fighting over absolutely nothing, right now?” Jess asked incredulously, cutting Clint off.

“Oh, I don’t know if it’s about nothing, Jess, maybe it’s something about certain heads being too far up certain asses…”

“Stow it,” Steve snapped. “And we’re not fighting!” He added, throwing out a hand to point at her.

That got Jess on her feet. “I don’t get what your deal is, but you need to take that finger out of my face.”

Steve held up his hands. “I’m fine! Everything is fine!”

Clint laughed a little too loud to be genuine, and then Sam was standing, too, looking like he was about to make a break for it to get in between Clint and Steve if he had to, but Phil put out a hand to stop Sam before he could get far.

“Naw, Phil,” Clint drawled, “let Steve’s wing man jump into this, maybe he can use his shrink skills to bring Steve out of crazy town and back to reality.”

It should be noted that Steve had a _thing_ about being called crazy, and that the step forward that he took wasn’t a precursor to attacking Clint – Steve would never use his strength against a teammate like that – however it may have looked.

And it clearly looked like something, because suddenly Luke was standing up and making a move toward the Steve and Clint, and even though Nat was still on the couch, she looked poised to leap at someone, if necessary.

“Let’s all take this down a notch,” Tony interjected, any intended sarcasm overshadowed by the lazy mellow tone of his voice, which Steve had heard too many times to not recognize as Tony’s attempt at soothing the situation. “It’s late and we’ve had a bitch of a week.”

Steve turned back to look at him, only to see his arm wrapped reassuringly around Mary Jane’s shoulders, and Steve had finally had _enough_ of it all.

“Perfect _,_ ” he said before anyone else could add in their two cents _._ “Goodnight. All of you. Ms. Watson, great to meet you, have a _wonderful_ night.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve was out of there. He vaguely heard people shouting after him, but he could barely comprehend a word of it with the buzzing in his ears. He ignored their voices, going straight for the stairs as fast as he could without breaking into an all-out run, not wanting to risk taking the elevator in care someone (Tony) got JARVIS to stop it.

He took the stairs two at a time, then gave into the frustration and took them a flight at a time, swinging himself over the railing to the next set, over and over until he finally reached the bottom. The only things running through his head were the driving need to _get out_ , and the inexplicable feeling of loss.

\----

Steve was running the moment his feet hit the pavement outside. Sure, he was still wearing khaki’s, but New York had seen weirder than a guy running down the sidewalk in khaki’s and a polo at ten o’clock at night. Also, he hadn’t wanted to waste time going up to his room to change. Mostly because that way he was sure to avoid any well-meaning (or angry, he certainly deserved angry) talks from his teammates, but still.

He was filled with the overwhelming need to _move_ , which wasn’t so easy in a place like New York where it didn’t really matter the time of day; people were always out walking and taking up space. Not to mention the speed it took to really exhaust Steve was considerably more than the average jogger. But he needed to get the images of Tony’s face out of his head, of MJ’s hurt and confused expression, the feeling of tightness, and the running inner monologue of _too late, too late, I’m always too late._

He ran as hard as he could manage without knocking someone over until he made it to Central Park, then he let loose. He feet pounded against the cement, his arms pumped harder, propelling himself faster, desperate to get out the messy buildup of tension and energy in his chest.

He’d waited too long, again, and now he’d have to watch someone else sit where he sat, watch her tease Tony and slide up next to him on the couch without ever having to worry how the casual touches would be received.

That Steve would do it, no question, was another problem. It was the reason it all hurt so much, because Tony was his friend, damnit, and he wasn’t willing to lose him over something as stupid and petty as his own entitled sense of jealousy.

And _oh_ , was he jealous. So jealous the feeling burnt him up inside.

He knew he would sit there and smile through every moment of it, regardless. He’d have to apologize first – _god, what the hell had he been thinking_? But then he’d show up and be Tony’s friend, watch everything he’d ever secretly wanted to happen, happen for someone else. That’s all there was to it.

He came to a halt faster than he should have, feeling like the breath was knocked out of him for all the wrong reasons. He fumbled over to a park bench and sank down, head falling into his hands, elbows braced on his knees. 

“Shit.”

He hadn’t just shown his cards back there, he’d thrown them across the room in a giant mess of a temper tantrum. He was supposed to be the leader – the solid foundation for his team – not the guy that lost it when his best friend brought home a pretty dame.

And Clint had just been trying to help.

“ _Shit._ ”

Sitting in the dark, alone, it was so much harder to ignore the desperate sense of loss filling his chest. Which was ridiculous. You couldn’t lose something you never had, right? But Steve had lost out on a future once before, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d done it again. Only this time, it was undeniably his own fault.

He laughed, he almost had to, because it had a funny kind of irony to it, didn’t it? To think he’d ever called _Tony_ the melodramatic one…

That’s where he was when Tony found him: sitting on a park bench with his hands shoved so hard in his hair that, if it wasn’t for the serum, he might be worried about giving himself a prematurely receding hairline.  

“Steve! Steve, you jackass!” came Tony’s voice from down the path. He was shouting, and Steve was on his feet in an instant, right in time to see Tony jogging toward him. Tony? Jogging outside of battle? Tony’s hair was a wild mess, sunglasses hooked on his dress shirt, a few buttons undone and his rumpled suit jacket flapping behind him as he ran, but it was definitely him.

“Tony? What are you – did you run here? What are you doing?” Steve asked, dazed, looking Tony up and down for injury on instinct, but finding nothing other than sweat stains and rumpled clothes.

“Fuck you, no. I didn’t _run_ here, I drove. I’m not a lunatic that would run across the city just to sit alone in Central Park in the _dark_. What the ever-loving fuck, Rogers? Are you still wearing those khakis? You complete _asshole_.” Tony was panting through his whole tirade, doubled over, but Steve just nodded, not knowing what to do or why Tony had come after him.

“How’d you—”

“Oh, no,” Tony interrupted loudly, whipping his arm out in front of him and gesticulating wildly at Steve as he glared with all the rage that Steve had ever seen Tony give him, combined. “Hell, no. You don’t get to question how I found you, not when I should be asking why the fuck it was necessary in the first place! I mean, _seriously_. Picking a fight with my PA the minute she walked in the room – you might as well have yelled at her when she walked in for all you glared holes into her skull – and then cutting your god damn losses and scramming the first chance you get?”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have! Which part are you referring to, exactly? The death-glare, the yelling, or the escape act?” Unsurprisingly, he didn’t wait for Steve to answer. Instead, he started pacing; no longer looking at Steve, but still very much ranting at him. “MJ was convinced she’d done something wrong, and of course you left me the shit job of trying to find a reasonable explanation for why Captain America looked like he’d rather punt her across the room than listen to her speak, when you’ve never so much as asked a person to leave! I’ve seen you talk to TMZ assholes, Steve. _TMZ._ When you were in the god damn _bathroom_ and some jack-ass wanted a chat with you at the urinal, you humored him!”

“His dad was a fan back in the day…” Steve mumbled, feeling lower than dirt the more Tony talked.

Tony whirled on him again, this time with his hands on his hips. “You think any kid in this country didn’t grow up having at least residual respect for Captain America? You’re a national icon! Even if you weren’t, how many times have the Avengers saved the world with you at the helm? Honestly, tell me, because I lost count years ago.”

“Just listen, Tony,” Steve interjected, starting to get frustrated.

“Funny, I said that to MJ about half an hour ago. You know what she told me? Cut the bullshit. So, Steve, _cut the bullshit_.”

“I’ve said it was wrong of me! I’m going to apologize to her. God knows she deserves much more than an apology after the awful way I treated her. Clint and Jess, too. It was horrible of me – despicable. Hell, Tony, of course I know that!”

Tony rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest with a petulant huff. “Then why, pray tell, did you do it?”

Steve groaned, sitting back down on the bench with an indelicate _thump_. “I’ve asked myself that about a hundred times by now.”

Tony sniffed, pausing. “Don’t think we won’t be slammed with press coverage of Captain America’s rage face running through the night streets of Manhattan, tomorrow, by the way.”

Steve winced. He always forgot to consider the media. “Right.”

“ _Right_ , he says,” Tony mocked.

Tony was quiet after that. The only sound between the two of them was the tapping from Tony’s foot. Then he sat down next to Steve. He smelled like sweat and popcorn butter, and the vague hint of motor oil that Steve had come to automatically associate with him.

“I’m pissed off on MJ’s behalf,” Tony said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“That’s understandable.”

Tony cleared his throat a little too loudly, and Steve looked over at him to see blatant concern in Tony’s eyes. It was almost too much, honestly, but Steve couldn’t quite make himself look back down.

“I’m also pissed off at you all on my own. Ducking and running like that? Really?” Steve didn’t know what to say, and Tony seemed to catch on because he just kept talking. “I checked your room first and you were already gone. Not even a note, and you leave notes for every stupid, little thing. Last week, you left a note saying you were headed down to the gym for a few hours, as if any one of us couldn’t have asked JARVIS where you were. Not like I couldn’t slog through the CCTV, but really? Making me waste my time running all over the city – looking for you – you’d think a guy would at least be appreciative, but _no._ ”

“I didn’t think you’d come after me at all, in my defense.”

Tony scoffed. “Yeah, right. Because if I’d pulled a stunt like that, which is pretty much the standard expectation at this point—”

“No one expects that of you anymore, Tony,” Steve said automatically.

Tony ignored him. “If I’d done that, you would have beaten me to the suit. Let’s be honest, I wouldn’t have gone for a _run_ if I was trying to get away, but you still would have gone after me.”

“Yeah, well…”

“I’ve seen you sit down outside my lab when I was having a very masculine hissy fit and locked you out. I don’t even remember what it was about, but I remember you waiting there for four hours straight.”

“I’m not surprised you can’t remember, I think your BAC was well over the legal limit.”

Tony huffed out a laugh. “Well, this is me waiting outside your lab.” He looked around. “Your, creepy, dimly lit lab filled with homeless people and teenagers looking for a quickie.”

“I’m…” Steve sighed. “That was a disaster.”

Tony eyed him carefully, mouth still twisted up like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be a smile or a frown. “Which part?”

Steve rubbed a hand on the back of his neck as the last of the adrenalin drained out of him, and all he was left with was a mess of complicated emotions and shame. “Can we call it a blanket term for the whole night and leave it at that?”

Tony hummed an agreement and turned his head away, looking out into the park. “You know, I was worried MJ was going to flee the room the second we walked in. With the look-to-kill you were giving her, then putting a death grip on her handshake, I wouldn’t have blamed her for tucking tail. If I were her, I would have pissed my pants. What the hell was that, Steve?”

“Inexcusable,” he answered flatly.

“You won’t hear me arguing that one,” Tony agreed. Steve had to look away from the pained pinch that had cropped up in his expression. “Look, I’m pissed about the way you treated Mary Jane, but what’s going on with you? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Steve regretted it the second he locked eyes again with Tony. The care and concern were all _right there_ in Tony’s eyes, with none of the bluster or armor he usually fronted to mask it. The petty part of him couldn’t help but think, _he hadn’t looked at MJ like that._ It was too much. Steve dropped his head into his hands again and laughed low in his throat. It stung.

“I probably should have asked you that a bit sooner, huh?”

“What? We’re turning this around on me? Uh, no go, Cappuccino. You’re the one who glared at my guest the whole night, made her feel unwelcome, and then yelled at everyone for no reason. The yelling at Jess and Clint is one thing: Phil will take care of making you feel bad for yelling at his boy toy, and regardless, they know you. But MJ was a saint. She didn’t do a single thing wrong, aside from existing, according to you. Which _still_ doesn’t make any sense to me, not when you’re the paragon of welcoming in the new blood. You welcomed _Logan_ with open arms way back when, and the only other asshole crazy enough to do that is Xavier.”

It just kept sounding worse the longer he went on.

“I told her that whatever that was, it was on you and not her, but she was convinced she could make it up to you somehow,” Tony continued. “She apologized and everything, saying she understood what it felt like for new people to step into your life unannounced, yada, yada, yada.”

“Of course it wasn’t her,” Steve said miserably. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person. Jeeze, Tony, I really screwed this up.”

“You could say that,” Tony emphasized with a laugh.

They were quiet, but it had none of the natural ease they usually had together. The longer the quiet drug out, the more awkward it got, and the guiltier Steve felt for making Tony come all the way out here when he should probably be with his gal. Steve sat up and purposefully laid out his hands on his knees, spreading his fingers just to take up time and build his courage for what needed to be said.

“I’m happy for you. I know it doesn’t look like it – hell, it _really_ doesn’t – but I mean it, Tony. I want you to be happy, and if she makes you happy…then by god, of course I’m going to support you. I just…forgot myself. It wasn’t fair to either of you. It was so far beyond the realm of fair that I’m trying really hard to not think about it, but I’m not going to make excuses for my behavior.”

Tony didn’t answer for long enough that Steve had to look over to check that he was alright. Tony just blinked at him with a confused look, lower lip pouting out enough to draw attention. Steve forced his eyes to stay as far away from that lip as possible.

“That is…an extreme response to my new PA,” Tony said slowly, magnanimously, like he was talking someone off a ledge. “She’s been good at her job so far, and she’s a real peach, but I don’t think our current working relationship warrants that kind of declaration out of you, Steve.”

Steve gave him a flat look. “Well I wasn’t talking about your working relationship.”

Tony’s eyes went wide. “Personal, then? We don’t have a…wait. You know?”

“I, uh. I kind figured it out with how comfortable around her you are. You just don’t get like that around people unless they know the real Tony, and if they do, that means they’re special to you.”

Tony laughed. It almost sounded relieved, which stung a little more.

“It was that easy to figure out? Peter’s going to be pissed for days. He thought it was one of his better secrets, not a single person on the team knew…” Tony trailed off, his face suddenly shifting into confusion. “Wait, there’s no way that you could’ve gotten the context…oh. _Oh_. Oh, no.” Suddenly, Tony’s humor vanished, replaced by a look of understanding, then horror as he caught Steve’s eyes again.

“Peter? _Peter_ knew before me?” Steve started, hurt. “I’m trying not to take any of this personally, Tony, but you’re making it a little difficult.” Peter easily had the biggest mouth on the team. If you wanted a rumor spread like wildfire, you told Peter Parker. You didn’t tell him about your secret, budding romance when you weren’t even telling your supposed best friend about it.

Not that Steve wanted details. In fact, he really, really did not want the details.

Tony held up a hand. “Stop talking, genius thinking.” His eyes got that unfocused look as they darted back and forth, likely seeing patterns and data only Tony could follow. Steve used to love drawing Tony when he got like this: focused, completely in his element, totally oblivious to the rest of the world. Steve frowned to himself when he realized it would probably be inappropriate to keep drawing Tony so much…

Then there was a hand on the side of his jaw, guiding his face back toward Tony’s. He couldn’t help the startled breath he sucked in, nor the shock he felt run through him at the contact of the rough pads of Tony’s fingers holding his face so gently. It was torture, how much Steve craved more of it.

“You didn’t know about Peter,” Tony said.

“No…?” Steve couldn’t figure out where Tony was going with that, and he frowned, waiting for the follow-up question he really hoped would never come. The thing was, Tony was usually just as emotion-avoidant as Steve, so the chance that Tony would ask _why_ Steve had forgotten himself like that was pretty slim.

But Tony shook his head, and he still hadn’t let go of Steve’s face. Steve’s fingers twitched at the urge to close his hand over Tony’s to keep it there. Suddenly the thought of Tony pulling away was the worst possible outcome.

“Peter told me a while ago about his plans to propose to this girlfriend I’d never met. He just wanted some advice – who knows why he’d go to _me_ for that, with my track record – but I guilt tripped him until he caved in and let me meet the lucky lady. This was a couple of weeks back, obviously, but he told me to keep it to myself until they were ready to open up to the team. His fiancée’s name is Mary Jane Watson, if you hadn’t figured that out by now. Which I now realize you didn’t.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to blink owlishly. “You’ve got eyes for the gal Peter wants to propose to?” Even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew they were ridiculous.

“Do I need to answer that question seriously?”

“For my sanity, maybe.”

“I’m surprised there’s any of that stuff left around here.” But Tony said it with a smile in the crinkle of his eyes, and it was fond, not deprecating. Tony’s hand dropped, and Steve caught it between his own before he could stop himself. He turned it over, studying the calluses on his palm, and faint scars on the back. He ran his fingers gently over each of them, feeling like he only had so much time to memorize them before they were gone.

Then Tony was rambling again at a break-neck pace. “I’m not dating MJ, and never have She’s also nearly half my age, and while I appreciate the intended compliment, ever since Pete, dating women I could have fathered is a genuine nightmare of mine. Plus, it’s just creepy. Sure, age is just a number and all that trash, but once you pass the twenty-one-year difference mark, I really feel like I’m pushing it. And I never want to be Eskimo Brothers with Peter. Oh _Christ_ , that’s nightmare fuel on another level – imagine the Christmas parties after that encounter. The forced small talk alone might put me out of my misery.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile, and Tony caught it immediately.

“You know, you’re supposed to stop me when I start doing that,” Tony accused. “It’s a mercy.”

Steve was completely aware of the fact Tony hadn’t pulled away, despite the hand holding, and the fact he suddenly seemed just about as nervous as Steve felt. “But I like it when you ramble.”

“You do?” Tony mumbled, looking about the same as he had when Steve told him he actually kinda liked the Star Wars prequels. 

Steve grinned. “Sure. You just start spouting out anything you can think of, and sometimes you get going on a completely different topic and it’s a challenge just to figure out how you got from point A to point B.”

“I’ve been reliably informed that’s an infuriating habit. To go along with all my other infuriating habits.”

“Like staying in your lab for days at a time, and forgetting to eat at regular intervals when you’re in the Science Zone?”

“Those exactly. And the music.”

“Okay, music tastes aside,” Steve started.

“You _do_ admit I’m infuriating!”

“No, I admit that I get a little mad when you use Metallica to drown out my arguments.”

“Only when I’ve already won.”

“That’s not how conversations work, Tony.”

“Like the conversation we’re avoiding while you stroke the back of my hand and I pretend like that’s a completely normal thing for us?”

Steve paused. “I can stop doing that.”

“I didn’t say I wanted you to.”

“Oh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So.”

“Yep. Want me to start rambling again and pretend I didn’t bring that up? Roll back this conversation into something other than monosyllables?” Tony asked, the forced lightness in his voice painfully obvious. It was that tone that finally did it, and the grin plastered to Tony’s face, clearly forced, like the tightness in his eyes.

“Do you want to forget?”

Tony’s eyes stayed locked onto Steve’s, and he didn’t need to answer for Steve to know that forgetting this was the last thing on his mind. Then again, Steve had a very recent history of misreading Tony completely, so.

But he was nothing if not bull-headed, and courageous to the point of self-destruction.

“Because I don’t,” he told Tony, heart pounding so loud Tony must have been able to hear it. “Want to forget you like me holding you hand, I mean.”

“Steve…”

“You aren’t dating MJ.”

“Not even a little bit. She’s not the—” Tony cut himself off, eyes darting down to their clasped hands. “Shit.” Tony laughed half-heartedly. “I’m trying not to read into this, but damnit, Steve...”

Steve took that as the bright red flag of a signal that is was, letting go of Tony’s hand to run his own up the length of Tony’s jaw, pulling him in until he could bring their lips together before he could second-guess. There was one second of hesitation before a dam broke in both of them, Tony moaning with something like relief against Steve’s mouth, and Steve delving in to take and taste as much of Tony as he could.

And it was _good –_ the feeling of Tony’s teeth biting his bottom lip – so good – Tony’s hands pulling Steve’s shit until it untucked – then the warm, electric feeling of those hands against his skin made him feel more alive than hand-to-hand combat ever did, and he wondered why the hell he ever held back from something like this.

It wasn’t clear whether Steve pulled Tony onto his lap, or whether Tony pulled himself up to straddle Steve’s hips, but it didn’t matter, it was worth it.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve breathed, reveling in the way Tony shivered at the sound of his voice.

He ran his hands up Tony’s back, groaning when Tony rolled his hips down along with the motion. Tony let out another moan that drove Steve wild, sending all other thought straight out of his head.

“Steve, kiss me,” Tony said, half a plea and half an order.

 There was no way Steve was going to pass up an opportunity like that.

“Get a room, old man!” someone shouted from down the path.

Tony didn’t break away or stop the kissing, but Steve did peek in time to see him flip the person off with a hand behind his back.

Steve had to pull back then, because he started to laugh and then couldn’t stop. He felt Tony laughing too, and pulled him close, burning his face in Tony’s shoulder. “We’re in a park, Tony.”

“Central Park, to be specific. You really are a walking cliché, Rogers.”

Steve pressed a kiss to his neck before leaning back up to smile slyly at him. “And you’re kissing me anyway, old man.”

Tony scowled, but his heart must not have been in it because his eyes were too bright and happy to pull it off. He poked Steve in the chest, rocking back with the motion. “Never use those words in the bedroom. I’m banning them right now.”

“We could do that,” Steve said before he could stop himself, then rushed to self-correct: “I mean, we could if you wanted to, not like it’s a requirement or that I’m putting any pressure on you at all, because that’s the last thing I want to do—”

Tony pressed a finger to his lips, mercifully ending Steve’s pain. “See? Mercy.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, lips moving against Tony’s finger.

Tony’s eyes locked onto the motion, lids slipping just a fraction lower. Steve watched him carefully, moving his lips again, and then brushing with just the tip of his tongue, catching the skin with a nip of his teeth. Tony’s breath shook, his whole chest shaking with it, and quickly pulled his finger away.

“It’s a yes to the bedroom,” Tony said, voice like gravel. “As much as I hate the turd that interrupted us, I think they have the right idea about getting a room.”

Steve bit his lip and nodded, hands tightening where they still gripped Tony’s waist before he forced himself to let go. Tony pouted, and Steve had to roll his eyes just to keep from putting his hands right back and kiss that expression off his face.

“Okay.”

“And you’re not pressuring me, so we’re clear. I’m pretty sure _I_ jumped _you_. Literally.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t say no,” Steve insisted, but he was too happy to even try to sound stern about it. “But, uh, maybe you should get down if we want to get out of here before dawn.”

Tony grinned, one eyebrow shooting up teasingly as he rolled his hips again, making Steve bite back a moan. “Oh, really?”

“ _Yes._ I promise I can make it much better for you behind closed doors.”

Tony just blinked for a moment, then quickly slid off Steve’s lap. “That earnest thing of yours is going to be the death of me,” he said bluntly, rushing up to kiss the life out of Steve the moment Steve was on his feet. Steve wouldn’t even be mad if he did, if he got to put his hands on Tony’s hips and feel Tony wrap his arms around his neck like this, it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.

“Tony,” Steve murmured against his lips, in between kisses that he couldn’t completely blame on Tony. “Let’s go.” Tony kissed him again with a groan of complaint. “Bed, remember.” The next delay was Steve’s fault, but could he really be blamed? It was _Tony_.

“Okay, okay, twist my arm why don’t you.”

Steve laughed, missing Tony’s body heat the minute he stepped away.

There was one moment of uncertainty when Steve wasn’t sure if wrapping an arm around his shoulders or holding his hand would be welcome, but then Tony looked back at him with this expression that was still vulnerable for all he was grinning, and Steve let go of the wondering doubt and reached for him.

They should be commended, really, for only stopping three times on the way to Tony’s car (which had two different parking tickets).

If Steve had expected the drive to be awkward, he was wrong. Tony told him about MJ – what she was actually like, outside of Steve’s jealousy googles – and she sounded wonderful. Then he talked to Steve about new projects, and plans for working with Peter and Bruce next week, and that’s when Steve realized that even if he wasn’t feeling all that nervous anymore, Tony was.

He waited until they were back in the Tower’s garage, stepping out of the car and walking toward the elevator before he took Tony’s hand and did his best to let everything he felt show on his face.

Tony looked at him like a deer in head lights, so Steve wasn’t sure how well that strategy worked.

He tried words instead. “Tony, I wanted to tell you something now, just so there’s no misunderstanding.”

Tony immediately froze, even his hand going stiff in Steve’s grip. Steve carefully kept the frown off his face and pulled Tony closer, running his hands along Tony’s arms, and up to his shoulders, gently massaging them with his thumbs.

“I’m not in this for a fling. Or a…one-night stand sort of thing. I really don’t think I can do that, not with you. If we go up there together I want it to be the start of something, something with you. Not some grand commitment, or a life-debt,” he assured Tony, knowing better than most how skittish Tony got around anything even vaguely approaching the concept of forever, and they certainly were nowhere near that, not yet. “Just the start of us. Trying. Together.”

Tony swallowed. “Are you done?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. Because I need to kiss you and then take you up to my room immediately.”

There wasn’t much talking after that. There was bumping into the walls of the elevator, a bit of bribing JARVIS to go straight to Tony’s penthouse without stopping, and a lot of lips and tongue and hands moving under clothes, eliciting moans and gasps – so many Steve lost track of which sounds were coming out of whose mouth.

By the time they got out of the elevator, Steve’s shirt and Tony’s jacket were forgotten on the floor. They fumbled backward into the penthouse, Steve giving up on Tony’s shirt buttons in favor of tearing the whole thing off at once. If the look in Tony’s eyes was any indication, the shortcut was very much appreciated.

Steve lifted him with both hands under Tony’s thighs, right under that amazing ass, as Tony sucked a hard mark onto Steve’s neck. He almost wished he didn’t have the serum, so the mark would last more than an hour, but then he wouldn’t be able to carry Tony like this, or throw him down on the bed and watch his eyes light up as he spread his legs, panting – his whole body posed like an invitation – waiting for Steve to join him.

“Pants,” Tony ordered, the husky tone of his voice wiping all chance of stubborn refusal from Steve’s mind.

He had the presence of mind to keeps his eyes on Tony’s face as Tony watched him, and was rewarded by the way Tony’s eyes didn’t linger so much as they _devoured_ , following the fall of Steve’s pants just to shoot right back up to the unmistakable evidence of how desperately Steve wanted him.

There was a lot the serum changed about his body, but his penis wasn’t one of them, and so the look Tony was giving his cock in that moment was as unexpected as it was intensely flattering. He’d broken out in a full-body blush, and the only thing on his mind was _Tony, Tony, Tony_.

Tony got half a word out before Steve was on top of him again, driving his tongue into Tony’s mouth, feeding off every moan and squeeze and caress of Tony’s hands. And his hands were _everywhere_ , lighting a fire across Steve’s back, up his arms, over his ass. Steve pulled away with a gasp when Tony used both hands to pulls Steve’s hips down flush against his, the rough friction of Tony’s pants so good and not even close to being enough, nowhere close to the kind of friction he wanted.

He pulled away from Tony’s neck with a grin breaking out in his face, seconds away from laughing, which was ridiculous because he was naked on top of a half-naked Tony Stark, he shouldn’t be _laughing_. “I meant to tell you to get rid of those, but you were looking at me like _that_ and I had to get close to you again.”

“Terribly sorry I wasn’t stoic with you striping in front of me. I’ll do better next time.”

Steve chuckled against the warm skin of Tony’s neck and then pulled back into a kneeling position, straddling Tony’s thighs. _Next time._ “I’ll hold you to that, Shellhead. May I?”

For one horrible second, Tony looked like he might cry, but then Steve realized it wasn’t _that_ kind of whimper he was making. “If you don’t,” Tony said roughly, “I may lose my damn mind.”

“We can’t have that; I like your mind.”

“Jesus, Steve, the words out of your mouth.” And the thing was, he didn’t even look sarcastic about that. He looked like he really meant the words out of Steve’s mouth were wrecking him, but as hard as Steve tried to wrack his brain for anything that could have been a turn on, he came up blank.

Steve frowned, his hand paused on the button of Tony’s slacks. “I haven’t even started to talk dirty, what did I say?”

Tony’s whole face went slack, eyes blown wide as he blinked up at Steve. “Oh, god, you really are going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Not if you don’t stop interrupting me.”

“You could always shut me up for both our sakes.”

Steve dove back down, levering himself over Tony with a hand beside his head, crushing their lips together. Then Tony slanted his head, coming up at an angle that was so much better, deeper, and his tongue pushed in, taking control of the kiss so that Steve was just along for the ride and loving every minute of it.

The pants came off in between the kissing and the fervent motion of Tony’s hands, and Steve didn’t get a chance to look and appreciate Tony for the marvel he is because the sensation alone was overwhelming the second they were skin to skin.

“ _Tony_.”

“Steve.” His name never sounded like that before.

“Tell me what you want,” because as good as Tony’s skin felt against his, as hot and as consuming as the need to be closer was, the need to make it good for Tony was greater.

“Not gonna last long enough for anything extravagant, been too long,” Tony said in between heavy breaths. His hips moved in circles against Steve’s, making Steve keen almost as much as the implication Tony just laid out did. He tried not to think too hard about the way Tony’s admission lit a new fire in his gut. He bit back the “ _good”_ that threatened to fall out just in time, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway: it would have been drowned out by the moan the followed when he felt Tony’s thumb against the head of his dick, Tony’s fingers dragging lower to wrap around the base.

He fumbled a hand between them to pull Tony’s hand up by the wrist.

“What are you—” Tony’s question died off the second Steve sucked a finger into his mouth, pulling back up to take two, then three, then dragging his tongue across Tony’s palm. All the while encouragement and utter nonsense came out of Tony’s mouth at a break-neck pace. “You are the goddamn hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve didn’t quite believe that one, but it felt too good to be the reason Tony’s eyes were heavy lidded, the cause of Tony’s cock twitching against Steve’s own, to care.

Tony took both of them in his grip, his hands sliding easier now with Steve’s spit, and Steve let his head roll back. “Just like that, baby,” Tony muttered, “oh fuck, yes. Wanna watch you fall apart. Wanna see it happen with my hand around your dick.”

“Oh, god, Tony!”

Steve dropped his hand to intertwine with Tony’s, moving with him, urging him on, their chests brushing every time they heaved in a breath, driving him further and further to the edge.

Tony came with Steve’s name on his lips, sending Steve following right after him.

He rolled inelegantly, collapsing at Tony’s side, still panting out heavy breaths.

“Wow.”

Tony broke out in giggles, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh right with him.

“Yeah, wow. I haven’t come like that from a handjob since I was fifteen.”

“That a good thing?”

Tony rolled his head to look at Steve, giving him a weak eyebrow raise. “Does anything about the state we’re both in make it seem like I’d say no to that question?”

Steve rolled his eyes and swatted weakly at Tony’s arm. “Shuddap.”

“Too late for that.” Tony let out a boneless sigh, one arm flopping out to land on Steve’s. After a little fumbling, Steve managed to get his hand under Tony’s and grab on tight, intertwining their fingers.

Steve squeezed once and then let go, rolling up and off the bed to look for a washcloth in the bathroom. He came back to see Tony still splayed out across the bed, eyes opening as Steve walked back into the room.

“Look at that,” Tony teased, “service with a smile.”

Steve swatted Tony’s knee with the damp rag, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face long enough to be properly disapproving. “Keep it up and you can take care of this yourself.” Steve knew that was just about the biggest bluff of his life as he knelt over Tony and wiped his stomach and chest clean.

“Okay, add that to the list of things that have no business being as hot as you make them sound,” Tony said, his voice gravelly and thick.

Steve tossed the towel aside to kiss him again. This time he was the one unprepared, and Tony flipped them over before he had the chance to react. Tony straddled his hips, looking very pleased with himself. Steve told him as much.

“I’ve got a naked Steve Rogers under me, you’re damn right I’m pleased with myself.”

Steve let his hands linger on Tony’s ass, kneading the muscle there lazily; not intending to take it any further than that, just enjoying the feel of Tony under his hands. The way Tony’s eye lids fluttered wasn’t half bad either.

“I want to have you like this,” Steve said, almost accidently, the words falling right out of his mouth.

“You stick around til morning and I’ll show you how good this can be.”

Steve shifted back in a rush, keeping Tony firmly in place as he sat up and rested his back against the headboard. “Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Steve told him, bringing him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck for a heated kiss that he felt down to his toes.

Tony’s legs wrapped around his waist like an octopus, his arms everywhere like they were before; trailing down Steve’s arms, his neck, finger tangling in his hair and falling back down his chest. They settled eventually, laying warm and heavy on his shoulders as they eased out of the kiss and Tony pressed another kiss to Steve’s neck.

“I think we need to reevaluate who’s gonna be the death of whom.”

Tony laughed against the skin behind Steve’s ear, the warm heat making Steve wrap his arms a little tighter around Tony’s waist for a moment, before he caught himself. “I still can’t believe you were jealous,” he said in a low, rumbling voice that had a shiver running down Steve’s spine.

“I know,” Steve murmured back, smiling too. He rubbed his hands down Tony’s sides, reveling in just the feeling of having Tony so close, of the weight and his warmth of his body in Steve’s hands. It was enough to make a man giddy. “It was silly,” he admitted. A little hard to regret _completely_ , considering where he was now, underneath Tony, but still ridiculous the more Steve thought about it.

“I don’t think _silly_ is the word I’d use…”

“Really?” Steve smirked. “Then what word should it be?”

Tony hummed, choosing to kiss Steve slow and easy instead of answering. When he pulled away, Steve leaned forward, seeking out his lips without meaning to, and Tony grinned wider, teasing. “Not that I’m encouraging you to yell at our friends or pull that male posturing bullshit again,” he clarified.

Steve groaned and pressed his forehead into the crook of Tony’s neck. “That won’t happen again. _Never_ again.”

“Not in public, hell no. But in private…”

Steve pulled back to raise a brow at him silently.

“What? Don’t shame me, Rogers, you’re the one who started this.”

For some reason, those words hit Steve harder than Tony probably intended them to. There was a brand-new bubble of emotion in his chest that he wasn’t equipped to deal with just yet, so he said what he could: “I’m glad.” He managed to get that much out, and instantly knew his voice was a touch too raw because of the way Tony’s eyes softened.

Not that it stopped Tony from sarcastically responding with, “I’m not complaining, either,” and a sly wink.

“Tony…”

“Sorry.” He didn’t much sound like it, and Steve had to laugh. “I am, too. Glad, or whatever word you want to toss in for variation. And not just about the kissing and touching, though I think I may have found a new addiction,” he admitted, leaning back in to kiss him breathless. Tony’s lips made Steve lose time, totally lost in the feeling of having Tony in his arms, Tony’s hands in his hair, and the little sounds he made that almost seemed accidental.

Steve ambushed him again the moment he pulled away to breathe, unable to help himself, but the next time they broke, Tony was panting through a smile. His hair was a mess, sticking up and flopping over in random places, and there was a heated flush to his skin that had nothing to do with embarrassment, and everything to do with the kissed-raw red of his lips. And his eyes. A blue Steve could pick out of a line-up any day of the week, but that he had never once been able to recreate.

“You’re gorgeous,” Steve said, and the words felt so familiar coming out of his mouth, like he hadn’t spent the past who-knew-how-long biting them back and keeping them buried – relegated to whispers in his head.

“That,” Tony said softly, as if it was supposed to make complete sense. Now the smile was all but wiped from his face, and he was looking at Steve in near-disbelief. Maybe a little in awe, too. Steve was thankful at least that he’d been flushed this whole time, so maybe Tony wouldn’t notice how his face heated at the attention. “You were saying, before the hand jobs...” Tony didn’t finish that sentence, but Steve knew what he was getting at.

He took Tony’s face between his hands, running his thumbs under the cheekbones he’d sketched more times than he could remember. They’d talked about next time, implied this wasn’t the last of it, but maybe Tony needed to hear it plainly. “I meant what I said. If you’ll have me, Tony, I want to do this for real –  take you out, woo you…that kinda thing.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth three times before saying, “See, that’s the stuff I’m not going to be good at. _This_ ,” he ran his hand down Steve’s bare chest for emphasis, and hell if it didn’t make Steve’s grip tighten. “This, I’m good at. Very, _very_ good. The rest…you know. Just don’t want you to go into something expecting—”

Steve cut him off when he saw Tony swallow hard. “I’m not expecting anything but you, Tony. I’m not so easy to be with all the time, either. If we can figure out how to lead a team together – twice – we can figure this out, too.”

Tony’s smile had less of an edge to it this time, and Steve wondered if it was possible to fall so hard for a person all over again. “So,” he said, looking at Steve like Steve was really somebody to look at. “We doing this thing?”

Steve felt like his smile might break his whole face. “We are doing this thing.” Steve enunciated every word, willing them to stick in Tony’s brain, but he wouldn’t mind it if he had to remind Tony every day just how invested he was. How much he loved him. But they could get to that part eventually. For now, Steve had _this_ , and this was pretty amazing.

It turned out Steve had been wrong when the thought kissing Tony made him the luckiest man on earth. It was waking up with Tony pressed against his side, and it was his favorite feeling.

\----

EPILOGUE

Watching Clint shake his head in complete disbelief never got old.

“It’s still insane how it all happened,” he was saying over breakfast the morning after the Movie Night that had finally woken Steve and Tony up to reality. “Not that I’m not glad our fearless leaders pulled their respective heads out of their asses, but come on! Peter having a crisis at the last minute on the same night that Tony randomly decided to introduce MJ to the team, with no one else but Tony having ever met the girl, much less known Peter _had_ someone to propose to in the first place…”

Natasha hummed noncommittally.

She watched as Clint eyed her carefully. She could see the exact moment it clicked in his head, his expression flipping from confusion, to shock, to acceptance so quickly and expressively it nearly made her laugh out loud. “You knew! You could have shut this whole thing down before anything happened,” he accused.

Natasha sipped her tea and set it back down gently before answering. “Technically.”

She could have ended it before it even began. She could have told Steve when she pulled him into the kitchen that Tony only looked so comfortable around Mary Jane because Peter loved her, and Tony loved Peter. But then it could also be said that she could have told either one of them about their clearly requited feelings days, months, a year ago, and that was a deeper rabbit hole than she felt comfortable diving into.

It was much better to keep watch from the sidelines, giving the tiniest of nudges here and there, when the boys really needed it. (If those nudges came in the form of a pretty, redheaded assistant, then that was neither here nor there.)

Clint smirked and shook his head. “Damn, Romanoff. Remind me to never bring a special someone anywhere near you before I’ve locked it down.”

She stared at him, waiting for the punchline, but it never came. Natasha wasn’t quite sure why she was surprised, but then again, Clint never ceased to do the unexpected.

He was honestly clueless. Either that, or he was so deeply entrenched in denial and self-doubt that it would take a hell of a lot more than a pretty woman on Phil’s arm to get Clint to wake up and smell the subtext.

“Oh, Clint,” Natasha murmured gently. She stopped herself from reaching out and petting his head, but it was a near thing. “Do you want to pick up a case of beer and a box of the soggy excuse for bread and cheese you call pizza?”

“Hell yeah!” Clint exclaimed eagerly. “I’ve got a whole backlog of the Tiny Homes version of House Hunters recorded. How do they expect to fit all their normal people shit into places so small? It’s amazing. And you’ll see the light when it comes to Mario’s, Tasha, I promise you.”

If she had her way, it wouldn’t be _her_ seeing the light before the year was up. All she had to do was break Phil first, and watching Clint get so excited about mediocre pizza and cheap beer was all the motivation she needed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sunday Candy by Donnie Trumpet and the Social Experiment is a great song, I'll fight about it.
> 
> It's also what sparked this fic, which doesn't make much sense because there's no jealousy in that song, but whatever.


End file.
